


Wretched

by author203



Category: Lupin III
Genre: Dark, Death, Grieving, Mourning, Revenge, Violence, jigen is my favorite, pops is my second favorite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:41:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27870193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/author203/pseuds/author203
Summary: Lupin discovers something about Jigen that changes everything.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 18





	1. Wretched

**Author's Note:**

> This one is dark. Like for real, idk what happened, but this one will hurt you for a long time.  
> Violence, Death, Grief, Major Character Death(s), and more, oh my!  
> Don't say I didn't warn you.
> 
> Also, they wouldn't behave so there are 2 endings - the first in chapter 2, the alternate in chapter 3.

**Wretched**

“Pops, we could have just had coffee or something. It didn't have to be a rooftop at midnight. Not in the mood for your theatrics,” Lupin said, tiredly.

The past couple of weeks had been hell. He didn't have another word for it.

His precious Fujicakes was gone, and for good. And not just gone like in the arms of another, or gone like she had just double crossed him again and made a clean get away. No. She was really gone.

Dead. And buried.

And it wasn't a ruse. Lupin knew for sure because he had been there, heard her last desperate gasp with his own ears. He and Jigen had taken turns with the shovel.

Jigen, usually quiet anyway, hadn't said much at all the whole time. Not when they found her hunched in an alley, only a quiet curse or two when they couldn't stop the bleeding, a mumbled 'I'm sorry, boss,' when they didn't make it to the hospital in time. And nothing afterward, when they had had to take care of her. What was left of her. The body.

Lupin again thanked his stars for his gunman. He was certain he could not have survived without Jigen's quiet, reassuring presence. Making sure he ate, keeping an eye on him. He could always, always count on Jigen to look after him.

Usually Jigen didn't answer, but Lupin could tell the gunman was always listening. And it helped to have someone there just to listen. A body to absorb the sound waves of his trembling voice. And Lupin always had enough to say to keep a conversation going with only a nod or grunt from Jigen as encouragement.

Zenigata stepped out of the shadows, his large form hunched in his trench coat against the cold, and came forward to stand a few feet from the gentleman thief. “As I recall Lupin, you're the one for dramatics.” The inspector glanced around. “You came alone?”

“You don't trust me?”

The inspector laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Of course not. But what I have to say, I think only you should hear.”

Lupin nodded. He was alone. As alone as he had ever felt. Fujiko gone. Goemon left to train or meditate or grieve or whatever it was he did when he disappeared. Jigen gone to check out a lead, one Lupin was itching to know about. He'd have his revenge. He'd have it. No matter what. He'd sworn so. He'd promised it, as she whimpered against his chest, his jacket lapel balled in her fist, begging him to get the bastard that had done this.

“I'm alone, Pops.”

“Good. Wanted to talk to you about Fujiko.”

Lupin didn't say anything. He felt both antsy and exhausted. Keyed up and wrung out at the same time. He lit a cigarette so he'd have something to do with his hands, gestured for the inspector to continue.

“We think we know who did it.”

“Was it you?” Lupin said coldly, his eyes hard as flint.

“No.”

“Outsmarted you one too many times and you had to make it personal?”

“Lupin.”

“You better hope it's not you, because I'm going to kill whoever did it.”

“Lupin.”

“Well if it wasn't you, and you're so damn smart, tell me. Tell me, so I know who I'm up against. Who did it? Who did this to me? To her...”

Zenigata didn't say anything for a moment. He wasn't really sure how to proceed. Fujiko's death had nearly destroyed the thief. There was something broken inside him now – it was plainly visible – and he looked... dangerous was the only word.

He had nothing to lose and nothing to hold him back. Zenigata knew the information he held could finish the job – crush what little humanity Lupin still retained.

He considered lying about it, but then what would have been the point of the invitation? Of calling this back-alley, rooftop off-the-record meeting?

He took a deep breath, stared at Lupin long enough for the thief to demand, “Well? Are you going to tell me or not?”

Quietly, the Interpol agent answered, “We suspect Jigen.”

Lupin's mouth came unhinged as his jaw dropped, the cigarette forgotten, falling to the ground. He shook his head. “No. No. There's no way. Not Jigen. He would never – Not my Jigen. You're slipping old man. Your investigating skills aren't what they used to be.”

“We have evidence.”

“Such as?”

“Security footage placing him in the area –”

“We were all there that night. You have footage of all of us, I'm sure.”

“We found shell casings to a –”

“We were being shot at. We shot back. I'm sure there was plenty for your forensics team to pick over. And Jigen's not the only gun owner in the world.”

Zenigata paused, reached into a jacket pocket. Lupin moved to draw his gun, but relaxed when he saw Pops was only lighting his own smoke. The inspector let the silence stretch a moment as he took a drag, let it out slowly through his nose. “So where is he now?”

“Went to follow a lead. He thinks he knows who did it.”

“Oh, he knows all right.”

“I don't believe you!” Lupin almost shouted. “He wouldn't.”

“But if he did?”

“He didn't.”

“Lupin. Who benefits from this?”

“No one! We had enemies, all of us. The job went bad, that's all. He didn't do it.”

“Look at it another way. What have I to gain by telling you?”

“It's a trick. Divide and conquer or something.”

“I wish it wasn't, but I believe it's true. I shouldn't be telling you this. I shouldn't even be here. But I thought you should know. And I thought you should hear it from me.”

“He... He wouldn't.” Lupin shook his head to clear it of the very idea. The thought that Jigen could possibly... That his Jigen would... There was no way. Just no way.

But the doubt was planted, and the more he tried to ignore it, to deny it, the louder it shouted, accusing. It used Fujiko's voice.

_But Lupin, why had he been late to the rendezvous? How had he known where to find me, Lupin? And why hasn't he said anything about making someone pay, Lupin? Lupin, shouldn't he be upset one of our own was cut down? Shouldn't he, Lupin, have had some sort of reaction to all of it? Remember, Lupin, what he was when you found him. You do remember, don't you Lupin? What he used to do. And who he did it for. Lupin? Lupin, answer me!_

“He wouldn't,” Lupin said again, but starting to sound unconvinced.

Zenigata shook his head, slowly, sadly. “I'd like to think so too, but it appears otherwise.”

Lupin glared at the inspector. He had indulged the old man's foolishness long enough. “You going to arrest me?” he snapped.

“Not tonight.”

“Why did you call me here?”

“To warn you. Watch your back, Lupin. We know what he's done before – you've seen first hand what he's capable of. Don't be stupid about this. Tell us where he is, so we can get justice for Fujiko.”

“I don't know where he is. And even if I did, you're the last person I'd tell.”

“Lupin.”

Lupin stopped, considered. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be.

But Pops was no idiot, and he would not lie. Not about something like this. “How sure are you?”

“Sure enough.”

“I can't believe...”

Zenigata turned to leave. He had been here too long already. “Just be careful, Lupin. Don't turn your back on him.”

“I'd thank you, but I can't. Not after what you said. Not if it's true. I'd almost rather not know, than to think he could...”

“I understand.”

Lupin watched the inspector walk away, heard him call back over his shoulder, “Just be careful, Lupin.”

Lupin drove the Fiat through the dark streets, trying to clear his head, trying to make sense of everything.

He was well versed in the principle that things were rarely what they seemed on the surface. But he couldn't shake the feeling that Pops knew what he was talking about.

He stubbed out his latest cigarette, dug in his pocket for another, found he was out. He crumpled the pack in his fist before tossing it in the back seat. It was so late. Or very early. No where would be open now. He'd have to get more tomorrow.

He was completely drained. And he wanted to rest, but didn't know if he could. What if he went to the safe house and Jigen was there?

What would he do? What could he say? _Hey, Pops told me you bumped off Fujicakes, that true?_

And if it was – Lupin had promised. He had sworn revenge.

There were the usual ways, a bullet or a knife. Or cleaner ways. Poison the bourbon. Wait until he was drunk, help him lose his balance down the stairs or off a balcony. Make sure a parachute wouldn't open. Cut a brake line. Fail to mention certain security measures on the next heist.

Even hire somebody to do it for him. But that wouldn't work. No one could beat that draw.

Whatever happened Lupin would have to get the drop on him. There's no way he'd win in a fair fight. But fair had gone out the window a long time ago.

Fujiko had never had a fair chance.

He went back to the safe house, but only because there was no where else for him to go. With any luck Jigen would be out or asleep and Lupin would have time to think, consider, plan.

When he opened the door, the first thing he saw was Jigen, sitting at the kitchen table, mug to his side, pieces of his Magnum strewn before him. He was cleaning it, carefully, meticulously, like he always did. His suit coat was slung over the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up, his tie loose, the first couple of shirt buttons undone.

“Hey, boss.”

Lupin didn't say anything. Just stared at him. The thief was so tired, broken, felt like he was standing in sand – everything always shifting, nothing solid to grasp onto.

Jigen had always – no, not always, but for a good number of years now – been that solid anchor. The one thing that kept him grounded. The one reliable thing in his life, and now – thanks to Pops – he'd never be able to trust him again.

“You look rough,” the gunman said, staring at him. “Eat today?”

“Yeah,” Lupin lied. “Earlier.”

“Good.”

Lupin watched Jigen clean the pieces for a moment, thought he'd have to do it soon, before he got the thing back together or there'd be no winning.

Jigen tilted his head, caught Lupin still looking at him. “You all right, boss?”

“Don't call me that!”

Jigen studied his face more carefully. “Something happen?”

“Yeah. And you'd know all about it. You were there. Or are you over it already? Of course none of this bothers you. Hitmen don't care who they kill as long as they get their blood money.”

“I never took pleasure in killing. And I'm not a hitman anymore.”

“But you were!” It was an accusation.

Jigen knew Lupin was still processing. He thought he could talk him down. And not have to do what he never wanted to even think about. _Just keep him talking._

“Why did you hire me?” After a brief pause, Jigen added, “Originally.”

“As a bodyguard.”

Jigen kept cleaning the parts, started to reassemble his gun slowly, methodically, with no sudden movements. He kept his eyes on Lupin's. “Right.”

“What does that have to do with –”

“You're alive aren't you?”

“Well, yeah.” _Barely_ , he thought.

“That means,” Jigen said, as he spun the cylinder, “that I've done my job.”

“I don't understand.”

Jigen didn't say anything for a while, just kept putting the pieces back together.

Lupin's hand twitched, and Jigen pinned him with a glare, said firmly, “Don't try it.”

“Yours is in pieces.”

“I can have it back together and a bullet through your brain before you blink.”

Lupin hesitated. He knew Jigen was telling the truth.

“I don't want to. Don't make me,” Jigen said, quietly. “Please.”

“Fujiko,” Lupin said her name, but it sounded like a sob. “Tell me the truth, did you –”

Jigen gave a little nod. “Had to.”

“Bastard!”

“She was going to kill you! And not in that 'ha ha I left you for dead, hope you get out of this one' sick game you'd play. But for real this time.”

“She wouldn't.” This was the same conversation he had just had with Pops. He felt off balance, he felt like he was spiraling. He felt faint. He put a hand on the nearest chair to steady himself.

Jigen finished the reassembly, took his time loading it, watched Lupin as he holstered the weapon. Jigen reached for the mug, took a sip, keeping his eyes above the rim, watching Lupin, ready, but hoping he wouldn't have to.

“Why don't you sit down, boss?”

Lupin didn't say anything, but pulled out the chair, sank into it.

Fujiko was dead.

Jigen was responsible.

There was no way this was happening. It had to be a bad dream. But he didn't dream, which meant this nightmare was real.

But it couldn't be.

But it was.

“Why?” Lupin croaked. It might have been rhetorical; it might have been real.

Jigen knew Lupin liked to talk through things, sound out ideas, walk around something with words until it became clear. He didn't want to have this conversation. But if it calmed him down and kept Jigen from having to kill him, then the gunman would talk until the cows came home.

“I don't know why, but I know for sure if I hadn't stopped her, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”

“I loved her.”

“I know. And I'm sorry it's got you so tore up, but I don't regret it.” Lupin stiffened, but Jigen continued. “If I had let her go through with it, I'd have had to do it anyway, if she had gotten to you. You know I wouldn't let anyone get away with that. And this way – horrible as it is – at least there's only one body. You're alive today and that's all that matters.”

“I can't believe it was you. I can't believe you did this.”

Jigen tipped his hat up a fraction; drank more coffee. He had been sitting here for hours. Waiting. He knew where Lupin had gone, and knew this had been coming. He had seen Pops's invitation. He thought maybe Lupin had meant for him to find it. He had thought about leaving. Going to South America to get lost in a jungle, or the States to blend into a city's underbelly. Or even Antarctica or Siberia. Even Lupin wouldn't think to look for him somewhere cold.

But that was the coward's way. To run. Jigen would face this head on. Come what may.

“Believe whatever you want. Think that I did it because I hated her – which isn't true – or I did it because you're my friend – which is – or that I did it for money – of which there is none at all. But know this – I'd do it again. If I had to. To keep you alive, I'd do it again.”

“How could you?”

“It's what you pay me for.”

Lupin couldn't say anything.

Jigen wanted to offer some sort of comfort. Some condolence. “You know, I made sure that you'd have time... For your goodbyes.”

The images flashed through Lupin's mind. Holding her, her blood changing the color of his tie as she shivered. Her hair soft against his cheek. Tears. His or hers, he wasn't sure, but wet on his skin. How pale her face was in the moonlight. How fragile she had looked. A woman who was harder than diamond, more complex than any security system. He had never seen her fragile before. It had rocked him to his core.

It was a blur, all of it blended together in a wretched swirling mass of nothing but pain.

“You want a thank you for that?”

Jigen sat there, and didn't say anything for a while. Later, seconds or minutes, neither was sure, he said “So what now?”

“Don't know.” There were tears on Lupin's face, but he didn't bother to wipe them away. He crossed his arms, rested his elbows on the table.

“I'll leave. If you want me to.” Jigen didn't want to leave. But he wouldn't blame Lupin for casting him out. He didn't want to sleep with one eye open either, so maybe leaving would be the best for both of them. Lupin had always been a fool for Fujiko – he probably didn't even care the broad was going to put him down like an old dog.

 _A fine mess, this_ , Jigen thought.

Lupin thought about it.

He had already lost Fujiko. He wasn't sure if he could bear to lose Jigen too. But he didn't know if they could get past this. This changed everything.

The sun was rising outside the window. A new day. A new beginning.

“I think,” Lupin said softly, “that for now at least, I'd like it if you stayed.”

“It was to protect you. Know that. Remember it.”

“Let's not talk about it anymore.”

“You're the boss,” Jigen saluted with his coffee mug.

The door knob rattled and they both jumped up from the table, drew their weapons, pointed them at the safe house entrance.

“Goemon,” Lupin said, confused. “I thought you'd gone back to Japan.”

“Have you found who is responsible? Tell me, so that they may taste my steel.”

Lupin holstered his Walther. Jigen didn't move. “Jigen,” the thief said, and there was the slightest pause. Jigen tensed, finger on the trigger, still hoping he wouldn't have to, but ready nonetheless. He knew everything hinged on Lupin's next words. “Already took care of it,” he finished.

The gunman cocked an eyebrow, but didn't move otherwise.

Goemon loosened his grip on his sword, his shoulders slumped, his head down. “I am denied even my vengeance.”

The danger past, Jigen holstered his gun, went to refill his coffee.

“Vengeance is overrated,” Lupin said quietly. Then a moment later, “I miss her too.”

“We all will,” Jigen put in, as he brought coffee to Lupin, tea to the samurai, both of them seated at the table now.

Lupin thought he'd mourn for the rest of his existence. He'd never stop missing her. Thinking of her. If he could dream, it'd be of her, he was sure.

But Jigen was loyal and reliable, and would not lie. Not to him. Not about something like this. He may even have tried to prevent it, talk her out of it. Lupin hadn't been there and he would never know. All he could do was pick up the pieces, try to fit them back together again, move on.

It would be a very long time before he felt like himself again.

His fingers brushed the gunman's when Jigen handed over the mug. “Jigen,” the thief met his eyes. “Thank you.”

The gunman only nodded. That was all they were going to say about it.

Goemon did not know the weight of Lupin's words. He thought the gratitude was for the beverage, and not his very life.

Jigen thought the samurai looked wrung out. He probably hadn't eaten for a while. Lupin didn't look much better. They had all been through the wringer for sure.

Jigen knew it was up to him. To look after them. To keep them alive. To take care of them when they couldn't take care of themselves.

“So what do you both want for breakfast?” Jigen asked, putting on his apron, tying the strings. He turned his back, moved toward the stove.


	2. In A Perfect World (Jigen Is Forgiven)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In A Perfect World (Jigen Is Forgiven)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first possible ending to Wretched.

**In A Perfect World (Jigen Is Forgiven)**

“So what do you both want for breakfast?” Jigen asked, putting on his apron, tying the strings. He turned his back, moved toward the stove.

“French toast?” Lupin suggested. He didn't really want anything, wasn't hungry, but knew he had to eat. Had to keep up his strength. He had to keep living. Hard as it was. He had to survive.

“Sure, boss,” Jigen answered. “For you, _anything_.”


	3. In The World We Live In (Lupin Gets His Revenge)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In The World We Live In (Lupin Gets His Revenge)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second possible ending to Wretched.

**In The World We Live In (Lupin Gets His Revenge)**

“So what do you both want for breakfast?” Jigen asked, putting on his apron, tying the strings. He turned his back, moved toward the stove.

“Lupin,” Jigen heard Goemon gasp. Heard the gunmetal scrape against leather, heard the jacket fabric swish.

“Revenge,” Lupin said darkly, the word drowned out by the sound of the shot. “And serve it cold.”

Jigen turned, reaching for his Magnum, but was too late, caught the bullet square in his side at point blank range. His leg buckled and he fell, landing in a heap next to the fridge.

Jigen had known for years – had always known – he'd die gut shot, bleeding out. But he had never expected it to happen like this. He thought it would be an enemy. Or a lucky shot from Pops. A job gone bad. Not from his partner. And not in the back. And not in his kitchen, wearing his apron, already dark with the life leaking out of him.

“For Fujiko,” the thief uttered, looking down at the prone body of his gunman.

Lupin's eyes crossed as he tried to focus on the sword tip suddenly before his nose. He turned his head slightly to look back over his shoulder, saw Goemon standing there, grimacing. The samurai wrenched the sword free from Lupin's body, blood dripping from the blade. “For Jigen,” Goemon explained coldly, as Lupin collapsed dying.

A heavy, coppery smell filled the small kitchen, overpowering the stale tobacco stink that always lingers, the burnt lasagna from yesterday.

Jigen's strength was fading, he could feel himself going numb, but he had enough left to do one last thing. He turned his wrist upward from where he lay on the floor, aimed true.

Goemon grunted with the impact, and fell, the sword clattering against the floor tiles.

“For Lupin,” Jigen whispered.

He listened, but couldn't hear anything over his own ragged breath. No noise from the other two. No movement. They must be already gone. Well, he'd be with them again shortly. Any minute now.

He wanted it to be different. Damn Fujiko. As usual, everything was her fault. He had never wanted it to be like this. He never thought this would be the way it all came apart.

He tilted his head slightly, let his hat brim block the view he had never dreamed he'd have to bear witness to, and muttered on his last breath, “For Lupin.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Comments welcome. (I will be interested to see which ending you prefer.) 
> 
> Also, Love Wears A Fedora is much lighter/more fun if you need something to recover from this.


End file.
